================= Eldarin Calendar <in Sindarin> ===================
IC time is: Twilight < About 8:14 PM >
IC day is: Ormenel <Heavens-day>
IC date is: 8 Ethuil <Spring>
Moon phase: Waxing Gibbous <VISIBLE>
Earendil: Gil-Estel shines brightly well above the horizon in the
western sky.
IC year is: Loa 18 o Yen 22, Nelandran o Endor <TA 3042>
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Long Lawn

You stand amidst a long lawn of shining grass. It ripples in the gentle river breezes like tresses of golden hair, sprinkled too with hundreds of golden elanor flowers which radiate with the light of the sun. The eastern edge of the lawn fades into a white-stone beach, lapped upon by the deep and dark waters of the broad Anduin river which flows from the north, continuing southwards forever onto the sea. Joining the Anduin directly to the south is the Celebrant river, which hurries towards you from between the groves of Mallorns to the northwest. Northwards, the lawn is bordered by a high green wall of dense forest growth. With your sharp elven eyes, you spy a small recess in the wall, perhaps a passageway which leads through it.

Contents:
Galharth
Pelliwen
Thorhur
Maglind
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It is twilight: Earendil and plump Tilion hold conversation in the sky, wishing their goodbyes to the sun who has just set. The river ripples softly past, laced with pricks of light. The current here is cold and deep, but still someone braves the waters.

An Elf stands on the bank in a soaked tunic, immersed up to his knees. In one hand he holds a dagger; in the other ... a bucket.

"Considering a dive?" Galharth calls out as he limps out onto the Long Lawn. His clothing and hair flutters in the breeze as he nears the rivers edge. His pace is uneaven, but persistent, but his staff provides the needed support for his still strengthening leg. "I should like to return to this soon." the Tailor says as he comes to a halt beside the water. Pausing a moment to look out over the water, he draws in a deep breath. "It is beautiful here. There is nothing like land and water mingling together."

"It creates beautiful mud," agrees Maglind dryly, tilting the bucket slightly. Inside shines the iridescent tail of a fish. "But do you think it deserves more investigation, Galharth? I have learned all I want to know about that ship."

Night falls, and a song rises. From the direction of the Green Wall it comes, a melody that seems light and cheerful, and yet which also holds an almost sullen note. Perhaps it is a song that fits the evening: celebration of the starlight and yet sadness for the passing day.

The source of the song finally appears upon the lawn, the tune growing a bit in volume as the elleth appears upon the lawn. That is, it grows at least until the grey eyes of Aluirwen, the newly-arrived elleth, espy the two near to the water; at this, her song halts, and she ventures nearer, eyes wide and curious, saying naught as yet, merely clutching a tome to her chest as her lithe steps whisper through the grass.

Leaning towards the Warden, the Tailor peers inside the bucket. "Are the missing bodies to those lovely tails hidden in this beautiful mud?" Galharth says with a soft chuckle. Shifting slightly, he stands straight as he looks once more towards the water. "I'd say it is worth the effort. Something besides ill memories surely has to be among the remains of that ship." Glancing sideways, he smiles. "Tell me you're not the least bit curious."

As the Craftmaster turns his head, he catchs sight of something move just as the sound of song reaches his ears. "Ah! Well met." he calls out in a pleasant tone as the song ends. "Welcome to the Long Lawn, and the site of the most curious oddity of Lothlorien." His eyes sparkle with mirth as he pauses to glance at Maglind.

"Aluirwen," Maglind calls with a smile. Tucking the dagger into the belt of his soaked trousers, the warden wades toward the bank. "The fish are not missing," he answers. "They are inside the bucket, you must look closely. I caught them."

The elleth doesn't seem startled in the least as she is noticed by the others; it would seem that she might have expected it, even. "Ai, well met!" she calls, her words singing even as her previous melody. She dips in a brief curtsey, a merry bounce and yet a subtle grace in the gesture. "I thank you for the welcome, and it does indeed seem that I have stumbled upon a scene...

"And I had thought it might be the warden that I met recently at the gates," she continues, gaze shifting to Maglind. "Fish in a bucket? Why, would they not be better off staying in the river?" she queries, both a hint of question and a hint of mirth in her words.

Leaning once more towards the Warden, Galharth peers back into the bucket. "Ah," he mutters softly. "I didn't look that closely. Clearly the bodies lie within." Looking up from the fish parts, the Tailor smiles.

Turning at that moment, to hear the elleth's words about the fish, the Clothier laughs. "Do you not eat fish dear lady? Not long past we had a lovely fish grilling upon these shores from fish caught with a net." Pausing to glance at the river, he quickly looks back to the lady, "And not only did we find fish that day, but a sunken ship. Have you not heard of it?"

"They would," admits Maglind, ruefully looking at the bucket in his hands. "But I was hungry."

"And it was a real ship," the warden adds, sitting down on the white shore. "Elven, most likely, and with treasure and things of knowledge."

Laying flat on her back with hands folded across her stomach, the young silvan Pelliwen stares up at the night sky. There is not a better place in Lothlorien to gaze at the stars and enjoy peace and quiet, for this reason she comes here often. So when she leans onto her elbow and peaks up from the grass, the elleth wears a heavy frown. wWen she spots the gathering by the water, she tilts her head thoughtfully, as she examines them motionless from the grass.

"Alas, of this I had heard little!" says Aluirwen, seeming to disregard the comments on the fish for the moment, "though somehow I find that rather unsurprising..." She pauses a moment, thoughtfully pressing a finger to her lips. "Though I do believe I see evidence of this ship before my very eyes, unless I am mistaken?" she nods toward the figurehead.

But at the wrods of Maglind, the countenance of the glirdan changes, and her eyes brighten, sparkling even as the stars sparkle with their light. "Things of knowledge?" she questions, the anticipation in her voice badly hidden. "What sorts of things were found, if I might ask?"

Nodding at the Warden's addition to news on the ship, a hint of excitement flickers on the Tailor's face. His nod ends quickly upon catching something odd in the grass further up the lawn. "Hello!" Galharth calls out, taking a limped step towards what might be someone peering up from the grass. "Well met!"

Attention is not to remain upon the variation in the grass, for Aluirwen's words swiftly draw the Clothier's attention. Turning towards the Figurehead, he sweeps a hand towards the work of art. "Is it not beautiful? Clearly carved by one of extreme talent in the days of old." Lost in his obsession, he misses what more is said to the Warden.

Silently rolling onto her stomach, Pelliwen rests her chin into her palms and gazes and continues to gaze thoughtfully toward the group. Of course this silvan is not one to enjoy a group setting, so she does not reply when Galharth shouts in her direction. Instead her head lowers slightly in an attempt to remain unseen.

Silently rolling onto her stomach, Pelliwen rests her chin into her palms and continues to gaze thoughtfully toward the group. Of course this silvan is not one to enjoy a group setting, so she does not reply when Galharth shouts in her direction. Instead her head lowers slightly in an attempt to remain unseen.

"Things of knowledge old and terrible," replies Maglind, absently dangling the bucket from pale fingers. "Perhaps they were from the Elder Days. Perhaps older; I do not wish to know."

The gaze of Aluirwen follows the greeting of Galharth, and she, too, nods amicably toward the figure in the grass. But swiftly is her attention returned to the figurehead, as the Tailor speaks of it. "'Tis, indeed," she replies. "And old, indeed, it would seem..." The glirdan pauses, as if she has fallen into thought.

However, the words of Maglind pull Aluirwen from her seeming-daydream, and her eyes are alight anew with the information that the Warden gives. "Are scholars reviewing these things, then? Or perhaps our Lady is keeping watch over them?" she questions, a genuine curiosity.

"Terrible?" Galharth says quickly to the Warden's words, "Certainly some of it was horrible, but certainly not all can be of the same calibre." Turning to look towards Maglind, the Tailor's eyes seem haunted, "It is always wise to know, for what we learn could help us, or guide us in the days to come."

Looking now to Aluirwen, the clothier shakes his head. "We've spoken with all our scholars, and even traveled to isengard to speak with the most wise of the wise. The Lady knows nothing and herself now guards the terrible knife which brought forth memories of old." Taking a breath and releasing it slowly, the crafter frowns. "I've spoken in past days about visiting the libraries of Imladhrim. Perhaps this is where the answer lies."

"Would they know what Curunir does not?" muses Maglind, gathering a few twigs close at hand. "You're still in no shape to travel, Galharth."

Still watching silently from the grass, Pelliwen lays motionless. Any annoyance that was caused by her solitude being inturrupted quickly washes away as she listens to the interesting conversation.

Along the trail weaving between towering trees light, soft footsteps might be heard by those of the keenest ears, as well as the sfot rustle of fabric, or perhaps tis just the leaves dancing with the wind. A soft ruslte behind the trees nearest the relaxing elleth, the faintest trace of light tinkeling laughter, carrying perhaps from the city, and then the forest is still again.

"Terrible, you say?" Perhaps these words from Aluirwen hold some note of wonderment and also a tone that seems nigh wary, which is muchly changed from her earlier anticipation. "But, indeed... 'Tis good to know all that we can, that we may learn from it."

Curious turns the glirdan, indeed, at the latter musings of the clothier, and perhaps a slight frown colors her expression. "What might the libraries of the Imladhrim hold that ours does not?" she asks, seeming perhaps to direct her question toward both Craftsmaster and Warden, even if it was not the Warden who suggested such a thing.

"I know not what lies in Imlahdrim, but the avenue needs to be explored." Galharth says as he leans upon his staff. Narrowing his eyes towards the Warden, he frowns. "I'm trying, Maglind. I may be slow, but I can certainly travel." Gripping his staff tightly, he leans his head agains the wood. "At the very least, I could be set upon a horse."

"Learn what we can, for the history is unique, or I suppose it is unique compared to all that I've witnessed in life." Frowning in thought, the Tailor peers intently at the elleth. "I can not say what Imladhrim might hold Aluirwen, but I do know that our own tomes hold nothing of any use."

Peeking through the grass, the quiet silvan tilts her head in attempt to better hear the conversation near the water. Did she just hear Imladhrim mentioned?!. The elleths eyes widen at this, and to her knees she raises from the grass. With a smoothing motion through her hair and clothing, a bright expression crosses her face. Though likely unseen in the shadow. Her excitement over what is being said, cause her not to notice the movement near.

"But still, the way is dangerous." Maglind, the warrior, the worrier. "Perhaps we should wait and see what the Lady has to say first. It is just a knife; I do not think the loremasters of Imladris would know it by description."

A slight rusteling of the leaves, bright flashing eyes peer between branches and even as the elleth nearest the trees moves and the group beside the water speaks, soft hurried footsteps are heard. The elleth Thoniel comes flying from between the shadows and leaves straight toward Pelliwen and beyond her, Aluirwnen. Barely missing the rising elleth in a flurry of green green and golden fabric she flings herself upon the other elleth, laughter erupting from her lips as she crys, "Gottcha!!!" gleefully

Unlike a human, or a hobbit that will jump or flee at sudden surprise. An elf, naturally trys to remain hidden with stillness. So as Thoniel suddenly charges out of the brush, Pelliwen stiffens. In this instance a human impluse to dodge or duck away would have been prefurred as the stationary silvan is knocked forward when a knee hits her shoulder. THUD!..

The replies of the two with whom she is speaking do not exactly seem to please the glirdan, and perhaps the frown on Aluirwen's face begins to deepen. However, this does not last long, for there is something else that grabs her attention rather quickly...

"Ai!" calls Aluirwen as Thoniel runs toward her, and the Dinlom elleth drops the tome that she had been clutching all this time, reaching out her hands as if to catch Thoniel and swing her around to stop her quick motion. "Thoniel!" she calls merrily, for the moment perhaps forgetting other things. "It seems like long ago that we last spoke. You always were one for bringing trouble!"

"It is not the knife I seek to identify, but the ship itself." Galharth says as he peers into the depths of the Anduin. "It is the mystery of the Captain and the ship's purpose that holds my interest." Turning his head towards the Warden, he shakes his head. "You of all in this land know, Maglind. You've tasted the visions and you've felt the heart of the ships Captain." Lifting a hand and sweeping it towards the water his voice grows distant. "Ages ago, back to the begining, he sailed these waves, and yet something brought him here, and here he stayed." Lowering his hand, the crafters eyes glisten with memory. "Do you not wonder why he was stopped, or even if he was stopped?"

Jumping slightly as another joins the group. The Craftmaster does not take well to the playful tone. "Such surprise upon the border, Thoniel! We could well do without!" he scolds. With a glance to Maglind, a smile forms upon his lips, "Unless of course, Maglind would take such a prompting as an indication to provide us with a training in the grand art of the Longbow. What say you Maglind?"

Thoniel grins merrily and enthusiastically as Aluirwen spins her round to break her oncoming dive, though her cheeks redden a bit as she faces the poor elleth who she knocked over. "I'm so sorry!! I didn't see you there!! Are you all right?" she calls, mirth and concern both evident in her light warm voice. A cheerful laugh escapes her lips as she spins in a circle before facing Aluirwen as she speaks, "Aye I know it has been ages since we last spoke I keep wondering off and getting lost in thought". The idea of wondering off does not seem to bother the elleth and her voice has a rather amussed tone in it as she she gasps in mock surprise, "Me?! bring trouble, Why Aluirwen I don't know who you've been talking too". But just then Galharth speaks and she smiles ruefully, "I think I just figured it out! Galharth you worry too much, and if you keep frowning at everythig you're face will be stuck like that all the way to Valar!"

Raising back to her knees after a brief pause, Pelliwen appears no worse for wear. Only for a moment she does hold her shoulder, but quickly realises she is fine. "I'm fine Thoniel.." she replys simply, coming to a stand, while her hands down her cloak. She then fixes her hair.

Raising back to her knees after a brief pause, Pelliwen appears no worse for wear. Only for a moment she does hold her shoulder, but quickly realises she is fine. "I'm fine Thoniel.." she replys simply, coming to a stand, while her hands smooth her cloak. She then fixes her hair.

Maglind startles, and a fish he takes from the bucket flops into his lap. "She speaks truth, Galharth," he murmurs low to the Master, and a smile curves his lips. "But shooting should not be your first reaction. Rather, see and observe. That is why Thoniel is not a pincushion at this moment."

"I need not speak with anyone but you yourself to know that you are a herald of trouble, mellon!" calls Aluirwen to Thoniel, her voice mirthful, dancing over the words. "And you ever caused me to drop my book!" she continues, gracefully bending to retrieve her lost tome. "I hope that your wanderings have produced some eloquent compositions?" says she, raising her eyebrows in query toward Thoniel.

The eyes of Aluirwen then shift between Maglind and Galharth momentarily, gleaming with merriment and with starlight. "Though perhaps they are both right, mellon. Perhaps you should be wary of making such a ruckus so near to the border." And perhaps her words contain a hint of teasing.

With another rub of the shoulder, Pelliwen looks over all the elves that have shown up this evening. This is not what she wanted.. She wanted peace and quiet. And without a word she darts into the bursh to seek it.

Thoniel smiles warmly as Pelliwen rises and dusts herself off, "I am glad you are not injured! I do hope you aren't terribly offended either though, I just find the prospect of surprising people entirely too enticing to resist." She takes a few paces toward the downed ellthe and offers her hand to help her rise. A mirthful gleam in her eyes as she looks over her shoulder at the two ellons and Aluirwen, "See, when and elleth and an ellon agree it must be true!" she chortles to the ellon. She grins as she turns back to face the trio, and more specifically Aluriwen's words draw her attention, "Now what would be the point of wandering if I actually accomplished anything? I do hope she isn't too upset with me." she remarks, in a slightly more serious tone as the ellon dashes off

Wandering about on the lawn, Lostiriel is drawn by the sound of voices, beckoning her as she moves closer to the melodious sounds. Long blonde tresses are pushed back as her gaze scans the area, falling on those gathered. She offers each a welcoming smile and a soft, "Well met." Grey-blue eyes sparkle as she looks to each, and she moves forward to join them.

Laughing out loud at Maglinds words, the Tailor shakes his head. "I can shoot all I want, but I'd not hit a single thing. My only word is that we should be cautious on the borders." Sweeping a hand towards Aluirwen, he nods once, "As she said, we need to be wary." Focused on those along the shore, Galharth does not catch Pelliwen's departure.

What the ellon does note is Lostiriel's arrival, and with it he smiles. "Well met and good eve, Lostiriel." he calls out in greeting. "Perhaps you've come to visit the figurehead, or to consider the ship that lies in the watery grave just off shore?"

"Or to catch fish," adds Maglind quietly under his breath, gathering up the fish in his lap. A bright dagger-blade shines in the moonlight, and he begins to prepare the shining fish for a meal.

"I shall shoot it for you!" cries an eager voice, and a young elf wriggles past Lostiriel to plant himself at Galharth's side, where he stands straight and tall, radiating Good Intentions.

"Do you need a fire set? Or do we dine raw this night?" Galharth teases as he settles beside the Warden. Opening his mouth to speak, Rhibi interrups and the Tailor turns, "Would you do this for me Rhibi? Or would you seek to have me learn the skills to shoot at your side?"

"Well, then, mellon, if you e'er decide to 'accomplish something', I would gladly hear you perform it. Remember that, at least!" The voice of Aluirwen is light and merry as ever, and she smiles widely at Thoniel.

The arrival of so many others to the lawn seems to awaken in the glirdan some remembrance, and Aluirwen straightens, clutching her little book. "Though I fear that I must take my leave of you now," she continues, gaze falling upon Thoniel, and then straying toward Galharth and Maglind before returning to her fellow glirdan. "Perhaps we shall meet and share merriment again soon!"

"Indeed, Galharth. I suppose all of your talk has created an interested within me as well, and so I have come to consider it..." Lostiriel's voice drifts to a stop as another voice cries out and she is pushed aside so that Rhibi can get through. She smiles and shakes her head, laughing. "Anyway, that is what has brought me here. And what about you, Galharth? What has brought you here?"

"Oh," says Rhibi, glancing down, and relaxing his tense stance.. "I could teach you, if you wanted. I am a very good shot. But if you didn't want, I can do it instead." A radiant smile flashes across his face, and he glances around the small group as if looking for an enemy.

"The fish seemed anxious; it jumped into my lap," replies Maglind, peering at the Master Tailor. "Perhaps you could build a fire. There is wood somewhere..."

Watching the scene unfold before her, Lostiriel smiles and steps away. "I think I'm going to continue my wandering now. I am sure that I shall you soon." Then, with a departing nod, she continues along her way.

"Jumping into your lap now?" Galharth says with a laugh. Taking a few steps away, he looks northward, "I shall go off to hunt firewood. I'm sure to find some laying around the Golden Wood." Offering a teasing smile, the Tailor follows after Lostiriel, hunting branches of wood to cool the Warden's fish.

Rhibi looks uncertain for a moment; then he shrugs and drops to the ground beside Maglind, fully prepared to chatter away unendingly.

Gutting, skinning, and preparing the fish with a sharp knife, Maglind does not look up. "Were you talking about shooting things, Rhibi?" asks the warden mildly. "You know there isn't much to shoot here but fish."

"I wasn't," Rhibi says virtuously, as he leans forward to see a bit better. "It was Galharth that said it, I mean, he said he couldn't. Well, he /could/ but he wouldn't hit anything. I only said that I would shoot anything he needed for him. Can you shoot a fish?"

"If you wanted me to," says Maglind, laying the fillet on the grass. "There are other ways to catch them though. You might lose both arrows and fish in the water."

But Rhibi's busy mind has caught hold of this new thought. "I could use only old arrows," he muses. "Then it wouldn't matter if I lost them.... I know how to catch fish! Only, I didn't know you could shoot them. Is it just like shooting at orcs, only smaller?"

"Yes." Maglind pulls another shining fish from the pail, and sets to work. "I would rather you use a fishing pole, Rhibi. It's harder to miss."

"But I want to learn to do it this way," Rhibi says mulishly. He hops up, feeling at his back for how many arrows are there, and darts towards the river, calling back, "I will bring you all the ones I catch!"